Mistletoe
by iAir Nomad
Summary: On Christmas Eve, Peter visits Wendy to hear her story, as usual, but later they find themselves under the mistletoe. Peter/Wendy fluff. Happy Holidays, everyone!


**PLEASE READ: This oneshot is based off the 2003 movie. Well, it can also be from the book if you want it to. =] I did not like it at the end of the movie when the narrator said "but I was not to see Peter Pan again…"**

**So I changed it up. She sees him again, quite often, too. This is just one of those days where he comes to visit. =] **

**Anyways, winter break has started up for me and I've been obsessing on Peter Pan for a while now. With the holidays around the corner, this was inspired!  
**

**Happy Holidays, everyone! xoxo! Enjoy the fluffiness!  
**

It's been months since our return from Neverland. Peter had promised that he would come back to continue listening to my stories that he had grown so fond of. For this, I was very thankful.

My parents had ordered that the window remain shut at night, but myself, Michael, John, and our new lost boys never really obliged even though we said we would. Every night, even on the most frigid nights, we would open the window wide and I resumed telling my stories to my dear brothers and the other boys, and Peter would often arrive and lounge back on the windowsill and just listen quietly. He knew that I was not to go back to Neverland with him, nor the others. But that didn't mean he was completely restricted to visiting us while we were still young children and expecting his presence.

Tonight was a special night, and Peter had returned. I told the boys, without even a hint of embarrassment, a love story about Snow White meeting her soulmate, her prince, on Christmas Eve. This particular story was a little different from the others, as there was not as much action and fighting of pirates. Yet somehow, I was still able to lure the boys into it. They gazed at me with intrigued eyes, wanting to know what happened next to the prince and princess in their relationship.

"They found themselves right beneath the mistletoe, of which the fairy was secretly holding above. Snow White, in particular, felt rather bashful, but did not hesitate for a moment to lean in to the prince while he mirrored her movements. At once, their lips met in a perfectly romantic kiss that expressed all feelings previously concealed inside," I smiled brightly, ready to end my story in the usual six words I always ended one with: "And they lived happily ever after."

The boys cheered, and I giggled at their enthusiasm. But then I noticed Peter, still lying on the windowsill. He did not express merriment through voice, however, the smile that he allowed himself to create expressed his joy enough. I blushed, watching as he watched back. He was gazing at me in such a way that made my heart stop for a moment. It was expected from him, for I did secretly acknowledge his feelings for me although he didn't want to admit it. But for one reason or another, I could not stop the butterflies from fluttering in my stomach once they've started every time I saw him.

Clearly, though, there was confusion in his eyes, but I could not find what about. Perhaps he would voice it later.

"Alright boys, it's very late and time for bed." I announced after a minute. They all groaned, causing a small laugh to escape my lips, but I quickly ushered them to their beds.

"Thank you, mother." Each lost boy said one by one as I tucked them in with the blankets. Yes, they still called me that. I was grateful for them calling me that, though. It forced me to happily reminisce the delightful memories from being in Neverland when they did.

"You're welcome." I replied in a hushed tone, smiling before retreating to the light and turning it off. Now that I was thirteen, my parents expected me to put my brothers to bed, and I was more than happy to oblige their wishes. It gave me opportunities to be with them more than I could before and have more motherly practice. After all, that was what I was recognized as.

Once the nursery had fallen quiet within the seconds that passed, I turned to Peter, who had not moved an inch on the windowsill. But now he was staring out to the stars. With silent permission, I approached and sat down beside him, looking out to the universe as well. It was a very cold night—surely it was going to snow later as the temperatures kept dropping. I wondered how in the world Peter was able to tolerate it, he had so much skin showing that watching him made _me_ shiver.

"Wendy," he murmured, but remained unmoved. "What is a mistletoe, exactly?"

So _that's_ what he was confused about.

I inhaled deep through my nostrils and then exhaled, my breath visible before me, as well as his. "Well, Peter… it's a beautiful plant that has white berries and sometimes flowers. Around this time at Christmas, it's a tradition that if you are under the mistletoe with your significant other, you must… thimble them." I explained, smiling a little to myself. I wondered in my thoughts what it would be like if I was under a mistletoe with Peter.

His lips slightly parted and he nodded, understanding. "Do you have a mistletoe in the nursery somewhere, Wendy?"

I blushed, wondering where this conversation could be leading. "Why, yes, of course. Right above the fireplace, but it's all the way downstairs." I said, shrugging.

He nodded again. "And… have you… thimbled anyone under it yet?" He asked with unusual curiosity. He turned his head to look at me and waited.

I fiddled with my thumbs, looking down at my nightgown, and pursed my lips before shaking my head. "No. I have not."

He then looked away again, and from the corner of my eye, I saw relief wash over his features. I blushed a little deeper.

Peter glanced at me again, slowly. I could only guess what he was thinking at the moment.

He leaned in a little. "And… on Christmas… is this… is this when people like to be comforted by each other?" He whispered huskily.

I felt a little faint. He was so entrancing, and his voice was so mellifluous when he spoke at such a time like this one. I couldn't help but slowly turn to him and gaze longingly at his amazing face and whisper in reply: "Yes." 

He smiled a little at me, making my heart flutter. "Did Snow White enjoy the thimble? And the prince? Were they meant to be?"

"Why, of course. They both enjoyed it greatly, because they knew from the beginning that they loved each other. The mistletoe was a perfect excuse to thimble each other." I smiled back.

"I see. And what happened after that?" He urged.

"Well, just how the story ends. They both lived happily ever after. They got married and perhaps, later, raised a family together. They spent the rest of their lives in each other's comfort."

Peter smiled wider and I knew it meant he was, at last, satisfied and no longer in need of answers to more questions. I suddenly realized how close our bodies and our faces were. But I also came to realize I wasn't shivering anymore. He was so warm…

We heard a little chatter above us at that moment and a tiny giggle. Peter and I looked up and saw Tinkerbell there, hiding behind a hung mistletoe she had magically created.

"Tink!" Peter acknowledged in surprise. The whole scene was unexpected. But then she had flown off with another tiny giggle, leaving us alone again. We saw the mistletoe there, but we weren't even quite sure ourselves what to do. It took a few minutes before we were brought back to the reality of what was supposed to be done.

Peter lowered his head to gaze at me again, as did I. My heart was beating at an incomprehensibly fast pace, I thought I might faint. However, my anticipation was not shown on my outer features, nor on his, but I knew he was just as nervous as I was.

"Wendy," Peter started with his husky voice again. "Does this mean that you are Snow White and I'm the prince, and we are supposed to thimble each other?"

I tiredly inspected his lips. They looked so soft. And it had been far too long since we had shared our last "hidden kiss". Neither of us planned to let the other back down now that we had such a rather agreeable opportunity.

"Yes." I answered, barely above a whisper.

Without waiting another moment, Peter's eyes flit shut as well as mine and he was first to lean in and capture my lips with his. Fireworks immediately exploded inside of me and I was mentally flying. This moment was too good to be true. But it was real. I felt his lips moving against mine so sweetly, so tenderly. It really was not just wishful thinking. This was really happening.

I reached one hand up and rested it on his shoulder while did the same and cradled one of my cheeks. Our free hands inched closer to each other and our fingers intertwined, as sewn fabric would. The mistletoe above our heads began to magically grow and more flowers and berries appeared as we continued to kiss.

We tiredly observed each other when we parted. I could feel Peter's warm, nervous yet relaxed breath run down my neck. And without warning, I fell forward into his arms and embraced him. He was hesitant at first, his arms moving out to the sides, but he realized what was happening and slowly wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my honey-colored hair. I closed my eyes, smiling.

"Merry Christmas, Peter." 

"Merry Christmas, my Wendylady."


End file.
